The TV Robert Altman wannabees thought they'd make some trenchant statement about feminism by casting a 3rd-rate Lindsay Wagner as their reporter/hit woman/conveniently inept femmy fatally. Let's take a moment to appreciate this, along with her awful hairdos and dopey name, which sounds like it was painstakingly crafted by throwing those DIY poetry magnets at the breakroom fridge. Like rolling in the hay with a guy who sounds like one of Homer Simpson's sisters-in-law isn't infinitely scarier than risking a fall to one's death.

Not only do we have a football movie without a single frame of football game in it, we have to watch Donna Mills seduce David Jansen. I didn't ask to see that, didn't want to see that, and wish I hadn't seen that.

This one 'featured' a young M. Emmet Walsh (who would appear older and about 50lbs heavier in such classics as "Blade Runner" and "Blood Simple"), TV's long-running Tom Selleck, and even old friend Michael Petaki (J.C. from the grimly hilarious experiment "The Sidehackers", and that TOS ep. where he picks a fight with Mr. Scott).
I hope we all sleep better at night knowing that Harry-O/O'Hare, United States Treasury is keeping the NFL ("for entertainment purposes only") safe for 'legitimate' oddsmakers and their customers. Go Cougars!!!

I didn't think it was possible for a movie filled with intrigue, sex, parties, and murder to be so utterly, insipidly dull. The guys make a good go of it, and there are some good riffs, but, in the end, even Joel has to admit defeat. "I can't say anything funny about this. I'm at a loss." I'm betting that's the only time in the series that happened. (I've seen every episode except the second half of season 0.) Servo has to pick a fight with Crow just to get things going again.

I am football obsessed. In the off season I have been known to watch anything even remotely connected to the game to get me through. Then I saw this. I can honestly say I would have preferred to spend the 90 minutes listening to Joe Theismann discuss his prostate issues.

Night time. New Orleans. It's a big town. Lots of people walkin' up and down the street. Thinkin' about football, wondering where Alex Karras is. Reaching for guns. Checking for ammo. Lookin' outside. Spying on Charlie's Angels.

"The cops couldn't close in on their own rear ends."
Oh, I think they could close in on their own rear ends.
With both hands and a room full of mirrors.
A couple of guys. Two squad cars. It could be done.